A Tale Of Old
by Pennedwriting
Summary: Harry paled, "Dragons?" She squeaked to the surprise of the other three champions and she realized at that moment she was going to die horribly unprepared for a tournament she didn't even want to participate in. {First vs. last Sentances} You may call me Aithusa. It is the name that hatched me. And you, Youngling remind me of my owner from long, long ago. They called her Morgana.


_"Ladies first," he said, offering it to Fleur Delacour._

 _She put a shaking hand inside the bag and drew out a tiny, perfect model of a dragon - a Welsh Green. It had the number two around its neck And Harry knew, by the fact that Fleur showed no sign of surprise, but rather a determined resignation, that (...) Madame Maxime had told her what was coming._

 _The same held true for Krum. He pulled out the scarlet Chinese Fireball. It had a number three around its neck. He didn't even blink, just sat back down and stared at the ground._

 _Cedric put his hand into the bag, and out came the blueish-gray Swedish Short-Snout, the number one tied around its neck. Not knowing what was left, Harry put_ her _hand into the silk bag and pulled out the Hungarian Horntail, and the number four. It stretched its wings as_ s _he looked down at it, and bared its minuscule fangs. -{Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire}_

Harry paled, "Dragons?" She squeaked to the surprise of the other three champions and she realized at that moment she was going to die horribly unprepared for a tournament she didn't even want to participate in.

"Well, there you are!" said Bagman. "You have each pulled out the dragon you will face, and the numbers refer to the order in which you are to take on the dragons, do you see? Now, I'm going to have to leave you in a moment, because I'm commentating. Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle, all right?"

He gave Harry a worried glance before walking briskly out, the rest of the officials following him out.

"Vere you unavare ov ze Task? Truly?" Krum asked her, guilt in his eyes as Harry simply stared ahead and nodded numbly. It was an uncomfortable silence that settled on the quartet, only broken when it was Cedric's turn to face his task. Then it was Fluer. Then Viktor. And then she was left alone in silence that was extended over the commentary and the cheers. And then it was her turn to face death.

She saw everything in front of her as though it was a very highly colored dream. There were hundreds and hundreds of faces staring down at her from stands that had been magicked there since she'd last stood on this spot. And there was the Horntail, at the other end of the enclosure, crouched low over her clutch of eggs, her wings half-furled, her evil, yellow eyes upon him, a monstrous, scaly, black lizard, thrashing her spiked tail, heaving yard-long gouge marks in the hard ground. The crowd was making a great deal of noise, but whether friendly or not, Harry didn't know or care. It was time to do what she had to do...to focus her mind, entirely and absolutely, upon the thing that was her only chance.

She stood there in place, a Slytherin hidden behind the colors of it's enemy and realized the only way to survive would be to become her own. It's too bad no one taught her how to do that. It started as a chuckle, hoarse and deep before it became higher in pitch and she stepped back from the dragon to lean on the wall.

She was terrified, and vaguely wondered why she was laughing in the now silent and wary arena. The pitchy cackle became hysterical as she slid down the wall and began to breath shortly, harshly, and irregularly. This only happened to her once before, well that was a lie. It was only ever this bad once before though. Soon the breathing became sobs, broken and dying as the dragon decided it had had enough and geared up to breath a deadly breath. She didn't break quietly, it was like every atom of her being screamed in unison, traumatized that she should exist without the want to. When the wracking sobs passed she cried in such a desolate way that no-one could bare to listen for long. She had gone from gregarious to hanging by a thread, a transformation no-one could know how to reverse.

"I guess this is how I die." She mumbled as a numbed shock froze her body. Curiously, the mother dragon listened, cocked her head and glared at her anyway. It took a minute but Harry realized it understood her. Was she speaking Parseltongue? Did it even matter now? She chuckled dryly before looking at the dragon in the eye, "Well you can go ahead and kill me then, because if it isn't you, then surely I will die by the school will." A shocked whisper in the crowds and outright cries from the judges stands told her she was speaking English.

 **Why would I do that Young Dragonlord?**

"That dragon just talked." Harry muttered to herself before calling out in hope, "Hey, You have a fake egg! Can I by any chance have it?"

The arena fell silent once more as they looked at Harry in shock. She could hear the lone whispers of 'has she gone mental?' and 'Is she daft' before the Dragon in front of her yelled in rage at the accusation. 'Funny, it sounded like an actual scream..' She picked out the fake egg and placed in in front of her in disgust.

 **Take It from me NOW** She said, seething with anger. Harry considered her options before she simply walked forward and plucked it from the ground before looking up at the Horntail in awe. Actually she looked nothing like the Horntail from the bag, this one was pure white, and Harry briefly wondered if she was a Horntail at all.

"Wow you're eyes are so pretty." she mentioned offhandedly as she reached out a hand. The mothering Horntail bent her head down to allow Harry to touch her, before saying as softly as she could,

 **Thank you young Dragonlord, but I think your two-legged ones want you back now.**

Harry glanced behind her to see the dragon handlers gathering their wands and frowned. "I'll come later to talk to you. And I'll make sure they don't hurt your eggs without proper punishment either."

The Dragon, get this, smiled down at Harry and nudged her away.

 **Thank you youngling, now go**. Harry listened. It was a daze as a she walked past the handlers and to the medical tent where Poppy checked her over despite her arguments. The judges came in a moment after Poppy released her, surrounding her and demanding to know how she did it.

"Leave her alone!" Cedric called as he saw the frantic look on her face.

"Harry my dear girl how did you get the dragon to understand you? We need to know what spell you cast and how you cast it wandlessly and wordlessly." Dumbledore had spoken for the group as Hermione and Ron slipped into the tent.

"I didn't!" Harry protested, ignoring the unbelieving scoffs of both Snape and Karkaroff.

"You must've cast something Harry!" Hermione stepped forward and took Harry's hand, squeezing it in comfort.

"I swear I didn't! All I know is I asked her to kill me and then she talked!" It was silent in the tent after that, broken only by Poppy's sobs and Harry felt a pile of guilt on her chest.

"W-why would you do that?" Hermione asked, clearly as distraught as Poppy.

"Well sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to live only to have attempts on my life no less than twice each naffing school year!" She snapped at Hermione before wincing and shrinking back into herself, muttering an apology to the now mellow girl.

"Surly you are exaggerating Harry, you are safe at Hogwarts." Bagman or Baggold or whatever his name was spoke up warily.

"Safe? ha, Not bloody likely." She spat out as she glared at the egg in her lap.

Dumbledore sighed, "You may not feel that way but you truly are safe here Harry, even more so than at your own home."

This time both Harry and Hermione stared at Dumbledore in disbelief.

"Enough of zis zmall talk, how did ze leetle girl get ze egg zen?"

"I asked her. She was mad when I told her that she had a fake egg. Well the scream was more distraught at the fact that she lost an egg.

"Enough foolishness Potter, dragons are unable to talk!" Snape snarled as Karkaroff nodded in agreement,

"Yes, dragons are veak minded creatures, they half no ability of speech."

"I am NOT a liar!"

"Quite obviously you are." Snape fired back before Harry looked down to hide tears.

"How, exactly," she started, her voice suddenly quivering with a surprising lack of emotion, "was I supposed to come up with a spell to control a bleeding dragon without the help of a teacher, adult, or any older. Unless you're suggesting I used an unforgivable." Harry looked up and one look in her eyes and it was clear she was Lily's daughter. Harry noticed traces of guilt and wariness as she looked at the supposed 'trusting' adults in her life.

"Oh.. Okay then." She looked down again, shielding her eyes from their biased and close minded views. She grabbed her wand and threw it. "Go ahead check. That is what you want to do isn't it?" Another laugh, just as she had laughed in the arena, made it's was out of her throat. "Because Potter can't be telling the truth, freaky lying Potter is in it for the money, the fame, the eternal fucking glory that is so promised. Potter, who snuck her name in, who can't tell her best mate how, who doesn't care about anything but being the center of attention. Just like her father, or didn't you know? _He too was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch field made him think he was a cut above the rest of them too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers_ , how curious really, guess I have more in common with the dead than I knew! Wouldn't even tell her best mate she was entering in, greedy Potter only thinking about herself huh? Doesn't matter that she's been in danger like this before, there is no way she can be telling the truth, lying freaky idiotic dunderhead doesn't know how to do anything but lie and break the rules! Doesn't matter that she has no idea what her parents were like or the fact that she was sent to live with the vilest of muggles, she MUST just be in it for the attention. Well if I wanted the attention don't think I couldn't have it, all I had to do was stand in the great hall and take off my shirt in first year, or every other year when i come back from the damned Dursleys' and there we go, attention!" She was broken now, shattered really, robbed early of the tape and glue necessary to put her soul back together. All she knew were the sobs and the anger burning in her veins, she already started and she refused to stop,

"Never mind the fact that I didn't want to be in this competition in the first place, now i'm being accused of using the unforgivables, great, as if this couldn't get any worse?! So what now, going to throw me in Azkaban with no trial? Just as you all did Sirius Black? Go ahead, perhaps I can finally die in there and get the chance to meet my parents! Good luck trying to explain to my aunt and uncle why they lost their own personal house elf! At this point i'm starting to wish Voldemort had killed me back then on that night, or do you want to bring the dragon out and let it try again!?" It was silent as she finished her ramblings, and she knew silence was never a good thing. Sometime in her ranting she had closed her eyes, and squeezed Hermione's hand tightly, wishing and begging, clawing at an ocean and trying to gain support in the endless wave.

Her mind was like a lost man at sea, desperate and starving for some reason to live. Desperate for a memory, good, warm, welcoming, one she could smile to. It was difficult to remember her smile, soft but contagious, it had stained her lips like blood, the same blood she could taste as she bit her tongue hard to keep from screaming. But no one had seen her smile, not since the first time she stepped into the chamber that held the Mirror of the Erised. Not since the first time that image had touched her, it's grip hot and menacing, her mind soaking in the fear and newfound pain.

The image seeming to be relishing every moment it could slip it's hands inside of her, desperate to fill her; it's desire that could only be done by trespassing and taking what wasn't it's own, holding Harry down from a life that from the outside looked at only as one in repair, not in destruction. Her heart, poorly stapled shut, was beating hard but without purpose, her skin stretched across her aching muscles like a worn canvas.

"Harry.." She heard her friend whisper. She heard Poppy, the only adult she could truly trust at this point, sobbing, wailing, screaming. She messed up, she let them see how messed up she had become. Looking up she saw distrust in Dumbledore's eyes and knew he viewed her as another Voldemort already, unstable and untrusted. She stood and ran, not caring that there were shouts for her to stop; shouts of desperation. She made it to the forest and before she knew it she had found her way to the dragon site, following the call of-

 **-oung Dragonlord? Are you alright?**

"I'm fine," she lied weakly, "just tired of the dragon dung." she attempted to chuckle at her own joke but it came out wrong, twisted almost.

 **Come Youngling.**

Harry squeezed her way past the bars of the dragons cave and stepped into the nest, "What's your name?" she asked as she sat down between the mother and her eggs.

 **You may call me Aithusa. It is the name that hatched me. And you, Youngling remind me of my owner from long, long ago. They called her Morgana.**

 **++ A Tale of Old || Golden eggs and Dragon Dung++**

 **Okay I have a brief idea where i want to take this, a reincarnated Morgana who is ironically descended from Merlin using the BBC 'Merlin' series. If there are any other ideas for this just pm me and let me know!**


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